Laying a Trail Towards Home
by MissJaneInTheSun
Summary: Don't let the Two Idiots tell you that Tink isn't Regina's ex. Or that Hood is the only one with a lion tattoo. An S3.03 AU. FairyQueen with a hint of SwanQueen.


**Laying a Trail Towards Home**

_A short FairyQueen (with hints of SwanQueen) oneshot. Apologies for the most-likely nothing-to-do-with-canon-ness of this as I haven't actually seen the episode yet. I just needed to fix up the whole FairyQueen/TrueLove/Destiny/PeopleYouChoose/LionTa ttoo thing that's all over Tumblr._

_A thousand apologies for any mistakes. I've been keen to get this up asap so it hasn't seen a Beta yet..._

-x-

And so she became Regina's favourite time of day.

Previously Regina had dreaded any walk that took her where there were other people. In fact, she attempted to avoid having to walk anywhere that wasn't within the more secluded parts of the palace gardens. Other people looked at her like she had done something wrong, like she wasn't welcome. But now? Now she had Tink there waiting, sometimes waving. Possibly there were still _peasants_ who looked at her like they always had, but with Tink Regina felt like she was part of what was going on, rather than simply an object that passed through the life of the Kingdom without touching it.

And Tink lead Regina into all sorts of things that the pre-Tink Regina would never have dared. This new Regina found herself sitting outside the tavern with an ale in one hand and her legs turned outwards to allow the warm sun onto her skin. She laughed, involuntarily at jokes made by Tink, or even by strangers from other tables who welcomed them into their conversations. Somehow hours and hours passed without Regina once thinking that she would prefer to be somewhere else, or with someone else. Somehow the previously grimy town square now seemed to always be full of sunshine, and it was decorated with sparks of light off windows, and little hopping sparrows looking for crumbs on the tables were less 'vermin' and more 'fellow creatures'.

Somehow it no longer mattered what Cora might have thought, either. It seemed to obvious to Regina that being here in the sun with Tink was so perfect that there could be no way that _anyone_ could object. Perhaps, perhaps she was finally going to feel mentally, as well as physically free of her mother.

Once they became slightly tipsy and not only was everything beautiful and slightly humorous, but also not quite steady, they often went for walks. Tink seemed to know all the little paths that crossed over picturesque canals or went down lanes fringed with the brightest flowers, and Regina was content to be lead.

At first Regina wanted these walks to be though the town. It seemed important to her then that everyone get the opportunity to see that someone as well respected (and as stunningly beautiful) as Tinkerbell would chose to spend time with her. However, as time went on the walks went further and further out of site.

And sometimes, out of sight of others, Regina let her hands do as they seemed to want to do more and more. As she and the fairy leant on the edge of a stone bridge watching swans below them Regina moved so that her arms touched Tink's all the way from shoulder to little finger. Then, ever so gently she hooked her littlest finger over Tink's. And although she held her breath, Tink let her sit it there and they went on looking down at water and not at each other or at their hands.

Maybe Tink had thought that the almost-handholding at the bridge had been an accident? Maybe it had. On her walks back to the castle and during the nights when she lay stiffly in her own bed wondering if every step in the hallway outside was the King, it was easy to get confused about what had happened and why. If she asked, maybe Regina would be able to agree aloud that any touching with Tink was incidental. She had been getting to be a better liar than she had been when she was younger. But Tink was maker her weaker in many ways. It was the shape of her back that sometimes Regina just couldn't help draping her arm around as they walked. Or the little patch of skin between her ear and her neck, where her hair often curled, that Regina felt an itch to touch, gently.

Sometimes when she was alone Regina told herself that whatever this was with Tink, it had to end. She was to be Queen. She was Regina. She did not go gallivanting with the proletariat in the afternoons, she did not have 'friends'. Tinkerbell had _bewitched_ her in some way. She had duties that she was being tugged away from – and then her thoughts would dissolve into thoughts about the blonde fairy, and the shape of her back and that patch of skin...

One afternoon they walked further than usual and went right into the woods. It was a soft green wood, where the deer were protected and the toadstool were all either the edible kind or the kind that contained houses for gnomes. It was Tinkerbelle who reached out and took young Regina's hand. When Regina looked up from their hands into Tink's face she was met with a smile, and something inside her compelled her to say, "thank you."

As they walked they swung their arms and they chatted. Regina scuffed her feet in the gathering autumn leaves that collected on the paths and she followed Tink's gaze as she pointed out different species of birds and butterflies. It was like walking with Snow, but without the insufferable innocence of that child. This was two people who had chosen to take a walk together and _chosen _to look, even if it was only for a while, at the golden parts of the world.

They came at last to a tree, slightly wider and maybe slighter taller than the others. There was a rope ladder handing from a branch and Tink stopped, one hand on the ladder.

"This is my place. Do you want to come up?"

There was no reason for it to seem such a loaded question. But in saying, _yes,_ Regina felt as if she had taken some leap of faith.

The fairy's house was small. Just one round room with a bed, table, and some other miscellaneous furniture. There wasn't much room for two people, so it was obvious to sit on the bed, and then to lie, side by side.

It seemed to Regina, in that soft, summer afternoon light, filtered thought gauze curtains, and the breeze and the humming of insects that Tink's face was just one more part of the perfection.

"You are very beautiful," she whispered, almost reverently. Tink laughed, but it didn't break the mood. Slowly, so slowly the fairy moved so that she was positioned kneeling over Regina, with her knees beside Regina's hips. "You are beautiful too," and their lips came together touching, touching softly, kissing.

Tink's hand moved, slid, down Regina's stomach and then stopped with her fingers at top of her skirt's waistband. Tink moved her face away from their kiss enough that she was able to communicate a, "may I?" to Regina with just a look. Regina nodded, almost imperceptibly, afraid to break this prefect moment. She lifted her own head off the pillow to recapture the kiss. Tink's fingers moved under Regina skirts, stroking gently. As Regina deepened the kiss and lifted her hips as if to facilitate Tink's ministrations, Tink rearranged her whole tactic. She brought both her hands out from under the bunches of fabric and instead slid them along Regina's thighs, bunching her skirt up around her waist. The royal wore no other underwear beneath all her petticoats and so was instantly aware of the fairy's thumb back against her slit.

Regina had very few words to describe what she and Tink were doing or the parts of their bodies involved, but she knew that every part of what was happening felt right and needed, and that it was the only conclusion to the need and desire for touch that she had been slowly giving in to for weeks now. As she felt herself move against Tink's hand her breath hitched and she moved her own hands down Tink's body. She left one hand on Tink's own skirt, pulling their two bodies closer together, and let the other slide back up and under the front of her bodice. As her finger grazed a breast she felt Tink's breath alter too and it felt as if they were moving and being and breathing and floating and perhaps even dying as one. At last Regina couldn't keep the kiss going any longer, and even her hand that had been kneading Tink's breast stopped as her whole body focussed on what it felt it needed to do in response the Tink's attention. Regina closed her eyes and arched her back. She pushed her head into the pillow and lifted herself off the bed, urging herself against Tink's hands. _Yes_, she was saying. _Yes. More_. Then words left her and she felt Tink over her and around her and, yes, _inside_ her. Her hips bucked. Again, again. _More_. There was a thumb just where she needed it more. More. Yes. And then the afternoon exploded in all the colours of the autumn leaves and the feathers of the birds and flares of sun off glass and it was just Regina and Tink holding each other tight and holding each other together.

Regina woke later with the feel of skin on skin. The body against her fitted so neatly with her own that all she could think was, _this is perfection._

As she oped her eyes she saw that the sun had shifted and the golden light coming in through Tink's hair was evening light with a hint of sunset pink in it. Regina closed her eyes again and moved her lips over the smooth skin on her bed mate's shoulder. But the thoughts had been had and the spell was broken. It was late. It was a weekday. Snow would be finished with her tutors now. She would be looking for Regina. If she didn't find her she would go to her father. If there was trouble then she wouldn't be trusted to go outside of the palace gates again. Like a heavy curtain Regain's real life folded back around her. She got out of the featherbed and stood on the small woven mat and tried to find her skirts and blouse and her cloak. Tink didn't seem to have a mirror, so she simply pushed her hair back into place and hoped for the best. _Oh, what had she done? What had she done? _The quicker she tried to button her boots the clumsier she was. And what about this stupid house in a tree? How was she supposed to get _down_? Her clumsiness and frustration leaked out as tears which she brushed away. This was it. Probably the most beautiful thing to have ever happened to her and now it was going to end with her in a rage and probably scuffed shoes and a torn dress and banishment to some dungeon.

"Regina?" the sleepy voice called, just as Regain was lowering herself down the ladder and disappearing from site. "Regina?" Tink sat up in bed and saw the young queen at her door.

"Are you okay? Are you crying?" Tink hurried herself out of bed and came to kneel in the doorway as Regina tried to look away and untangle her skirts from the ladder so that she could continue downwards.

"Where are you going, Regina? Are you alright?" Tink scrambled forward and leant out as Regina scrambled down through the branches and out of site.

As she ran though the darkening forest Regina tried to wipe memories from her mind. She tried to find the pieces of Regina the brave, Regina the King's consort, Regina the Queen and wipe any memories of Regina the soft, Regina the child, Regina the loved. Whatever had just happened was undoubtedly the most prefect feeling thing to have ever happened to her. However, it was... it was... It had to be wrong in some way. Regina had let her guard down – she'd gone into someone else's house, and she'd let herself be _dominated_, in such an intimate way, too. If she wanted to keep her sanity, she had to forget that that version of herself existed.

For being late back to the palace, as she suspected, Regina was called before the King. He didn't punish her immediately. He raked his eyes up and down her body, lingering on her mussed hair and then her crooked skirts. "You little whore," he said. But he said it like he was kind of proud of her. She tried to slip away, but was cornered by Snow waiting outside the throne room door.

"It wasn't me that told him." Of course not. _Perfect Snow_. And in thanks for not 'telling' the child seemed to think that she was owed some sort of explanation. "You don't get a reward simply for being a good person, Snow," Regina wanted to say.

Except that the word did seem to play out like that for Snow. For Regina the rules were someone more complicated. She could try over and over again to do what was expected of her, but the result were never those she'd been promised. And Tink was surely just the next thing that would explode around her.

During the following week, as she watched Snow like a hawk (or like a devoted step-mother), Regina turned the events of that afternoon over and over in her mind. When the King came to her chambers in the night and tried to _own _her she tried to fill her mind with memories of how very different a bedroom scene could be. Except that this _whatever_ with Tink wasn't like the hope with Daniel that there was _another way_. With Daniel there had been the promise that True Love was somehow worth pursuing. Queens didn't run off with fairies. Even if they were best friends. Especially if that Queen was as undeserving as Regina Mills knew herself to be.

She was undeserving because she was given so many chances - by her mother, by the King - but she failed to understand them, or get joy from them. Now the only thing that gave her real joy was memories of Tink. And the thing that stopped her from being able to be happy in her life as Queen, was memories of Tink. She couldn't sort out her thoughts in her diary, knowing that it wasn't a private document. There was no one in her life she could sit and discuss it with. She had run away from her only friend and without her she would never know what had happened or what she should do next.

So, once again, while Snow was with her tutors, Regina found her cloak and and her walking boots and headed out for the village. Tink wasn't outside the tavern in her usual place. One of the Merry Men called out to her in possible not-unfriendly way. But Regina held her head high and ignored him. She made her way over the canal bridge and towards the forest edges.

As she walked she felt herself calm. She wasn't on her way to be mad at Tink about anything. She was on her way to seek out that sense of perfection that she had had in Tink's tree bed. There had to be away to capture that forever. Now she had felt it it was like a drug. She needed more and would give anything to have it. And she wanted to share it with Tink too. She let her imagination wander and think up places that her hands could also wander, and the look that would be on Tink's face, and the things that he might say and the voice she would use to say them... Regina had to stop to catch her own breath.

"I know you're in there, Tink. It's not that big a space." _You stupid fairy_, she wanted to add, because this was infuriating. She'd come all this way, all full of hope and with so much to share and to give, and the stupid girl was hiding. And for what reason?

What had she done that Tink might be mad at her? She had run off, yes. But she was back now.

Her arms were beginning to ache from holding onto the ladder. Regina looked around. The door was quite securely closed. But just off to one side was an open window, which if she remembered correctly (she hadn't exactly been taking notes on the decor) was over a small table. If she trusted her footing and if the window could be swung just a little wider, then there was a chance, that – yes, she could get herself into the house that way. It was difficult with petticoats and she put her elbow into a cream jug, but at last Regina found herself back in Tink's house, and was soon on her hands and knees pulling a teary Tink out from under the bed.

"What on earth are you doing?" demanded Regina, even stamping her foot like a spoilt child. "I escaped from the castle and came all this way to see you and look what I get!"

Tink's answer wasn't clear through her tears. This snivelling thing was _not_ the fairy that Regina had lay awake at night thinking about.

"Clean yourself up and tell me what's going on," she demanded, finding a flannel and throwing it at the blonde.

Finally they were seated across from each at the small table. Tink had righted the cream jug but a small potted geranium still lay on its side spilling dirt across the damp cloth. Regina leaned forward on her elbows and looked into Tink's face. "I've got one whiny child in my life. I was coming here to escape from that," she said, not letting Tink look away.

"I. I'm sorry Regina. You really, really should go."

"Not quite the welcome I got last week."

"Well, things have changed since then."

"Oh, like what?" Regina wanted to say something sassy but wasn't able to think of anything. The snivelling fairy across from her was almost too much to bare. Both because she was an infuriatingly Snow-like creature when she showed vulnerability, and because this was not the escape from the castle that she had been dreaming of. That dream. A dream of her and Tink and the little bed in the trees and autumn leaves. Regina found herself reaching out her hands and taking Tink's. "Can I kiss it better?" she asked.

"No!" Tink was defiant and load. "You can't even touch me, Regina. I didn't invite you and now I want you to go."

Regina was shocked and dropped Tink's hand.

"I don't understand. I mean, not all. I don't understand what we had and I don't understand why you don't want more." Her voice was quiet, and unsure. "What did I do wrong, Tinkerbell?"

Tink moved to sit on the bed and motioned for Regina to sit beside her.

"It doesn't make sense," she told the young queen. "But it was wrong. I know that now."

"But it felt right?" said Regina. Almost as a question. But before the fairy could answer they were kissing again and hands were exploring in underneath clothes again. "My turn this time," said Regina between kisses and uneven breaths. Tink's skirt was so short that it was easy to slip a hand up underneath. Oh, it was just as she had imagined. Tink was slick with wetness for her. And there, there was the place that made Tink's breath hitch and her hips almost buck. "I love you, Tink." And there. It was said.

Tink pulled away as if she'd been touched by fire and sat up again. "It's not love," she said with a fierce certainty.

Until she'd said it allowed Regina had not even contemplated that was she had with Tink was anything at all like love. But now she'd said it, then yes. It was like love in stories and it was just like the love she'd had with Daniel. Except it was with a girl. And a fairy. But it was perfect all the same. Who said love had to be with a man. Oh, being with Tink was so perfect that who cared what it was called?

"Tink - ?" she was also sitting again and reached out to place her hands on Tink's hips. "If it's love, then..." If it was love then Regina knew the script, and she knew with absolute certainty what she had come back to the tree house for. "If it's love then let me stay with you. Let us run away." She leant in for another kiss. Tink pushed her back.

"I'm sorry Regina. But we shouldn't have. I knew it wasn't right but I - I wanted it anyway."

"What do you mean it's not right?"

"I saw. With the pixie dust. Your True Love is a warrior with a lion tattoo." Tink held out her bare arms as if to let Regina examine them. "I don't have any tattoos at all. It's not me. We have to stop what we're doing."

"What? That's crazy." Regina pushed Tink's arms away and stood up. "And who cares anyway?"

It wasn't a big enough space for any dramatic gestures and Regina soon came back to sit at the table and face Tink still on the bed.

"Who cares if it's not True Love? I _chose_ to be with you and that's much, much more powerful thing than simply going where the universe decrees. I _want_ to be with you Tink. I _chose_ to be with you. I want to live here in the forest and escape from expectation." She leaned forward, placed one hand on the other woman's knee. She tried to catch the fairy's eyes. "I want you to teach me to fly like a fairy."

At last Tink did look up and meet Regina's eyes, but not with the hint of laughter that Regina had been hoping for. "It's not like that, Regina. I'm not _allowed_ to be in love. I'm simply here to give you the knowledge that you'll need to make the right decisions, to recognise your knight when he appears and to make the most of your true love chance when you finally have it."

"But. You! I've chosen you, Tink. I chose you before I knew that this was 'love'. I just knew that this was what I wanted. Who is it who can go around decreeing what love is worth pursuing and what isn't?"

Tink looked as if she was about to answer, but then didn't. Regina who had thought it was a rhetorical question was intrigued.

"There really is someone trying to control our destinies? Who, Tink. Who?"

"I can't say."

Regina shook her head. Tink looked so small and dishevelled and at the mercy of some great force. Regina wanted to hold her and protect her. Maybe her mother had been right. Love was a weakness. It was making Regina vulnerable, and it was making her go against common sense to want to protect someone for no logical reason.

"But what if we break away and _choose_, Tink? If I could chose I'd chose someone like you who has helped me and made me feel like I am alive, over some tattoo-ed man I've never even met. Come on, Tink. Let's run away! You're a fairy – my mother can't take your heart! Come on!"

"I can't Regina. She was here this morning. She told me that I've given you everything you'll need to take your chance with your True Love and now I have to go." Befroe Regina could ask, "who?" Tink handed Regina a small note, that was signed with a distinguishable blue smudge. "It's how it works, Regina. I might have a heart that's safe, but it's not to be shared, either. I've done my duty and now I have to move on. Good bye." As she spoke she perceptibly began to fade.

"No!"cried Regina. Loud at first, but then getting softer, grasping at the vanishing hands. "No. No. You can't give me something as beautiful as what we had and then just go and leave me with nothing."

_Not nothing. You've got Hope, Regina. There's nothing quite as powerful as the belief in a Happy Ending._

_-x-_

_Meanwhile, in a prison, somewhere in America: "It's a bit faint."_

"_Don't worry. It'll get stronger."_

_The two women looked over at the newly done tattoo on the younger one's wrist. It was tiny, barely more than a smudge. But then the girl was tiny too, barely more than child, although she was in a prison with grown women._

"_I've always wanted a tattoo," she whispered conspiratorially. "Thank you for doing it. I feel like I'm kind of on the way to be an adult now. Like I'm choosing things to carry with me forever, rather than having them dumped on me."_

"_But why a lion?" asked the older woman. Although she had heard the story before. It was a one that she enjoyed. _

"_It's not a full-grown lion. Just a little one," was the beginning of the familiar tale. "A cub. You know, because of the _Lion King_ film. Something to remind me that one day I'll create the kind of family I want. To me it's about love and what's right and about people I chose, rather than other people telling me how I should live."_

_In the silence they both looked again at the small, maybe-lion-shaped smudge. It seemed a very small thing to carry so much hope._

"_Good luck with finding everything you dream of, Emma."_


End file.
